M 


BY  PERCY  MACKAYE 


The    Canterbury    Pilgrims.     A     Comedy. 
Jeanne  d'Arc.     A   Tragedy. 
Sappho  and  Phaon.     A    Tragedy. 
Fenris  the  Wolf.      A  Tragedy. 

A      Garland     to     Sylvia.     A      Dramatic 
Reverie. 

The  Scarecrow.     A  Tragedy  of  the  Ludi 
crous. 

Yankee  Fantasies.     Five   One-Act  Plays. 
Mater.     An  American  Study  in  Comedy. 
Anti-Matrimony.     A   Satirical  Comedy. 
To-morrow.     A    Play   in   Three   Acts. 
Sanctuary.     A   Bird  Masque. 

A   Thousand  Years  Ago.     A  Romance  of 
the  Orient. 

Poems. 

Uriel,   and  Other  Poems. 
Lincoln:    A    Centenary  Ode. 
The  Playhouse  and  the  Play.     Essays. 
The   Civic   Theatre.     Essays. 
At   all   booksellers 


ORNIS 

(Miss  Eleanor  Wilson) 


SANCTUARY 


A    Bird    Masque 


BY 

PERCY  MACKAYE 


With  a  Prelude  by 
ARVIA  MACKAYE 


Illustrated  with  Photographs 
in   Color    and   Monotone    by 

ARNOLD  GENTHE 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1013,  1014, 
PERCY  MAC-KAYE 

All  rights  reserved 


THE-  PLIMPTON-  PRESS 


February,  1914  N  o  R w  o  o  D  -  M  A s  s  •  u •  s 


TO 

ERNEST  HAROLD  BAYNES 

'WILD  NATURE'S  HUMAN  SYMPATHIZER' 

IN  ADMIRATION  OK  HIS  DAUNTLESS 

SERVICE    TO    THE    BIRDS 


287948 


NOTE 

REGARDING  PERFORMANCE  AND  PUBLIC  READING 

Requests  for  permission  to  perform  or  read  pub 
licly  this  Bird  Masque  having  been  received 
from  a  great  many  quarters,  the  following  m- 
formation  is  Inere  given  for  those  desiring  such 
permission: 

The  Masque  is  copyrighted  in  the  United  States 
and  countries  of  the  Copyright  Union,  and  all 
rights  are  reserved. 

The  purpose  of  the  Masque  is  to  be  of  public  use, 
so  that  all  adequate  presentations  of  it  are  wel 
come.  To  this  end  the  special  conditions  of 
performance  or  public  reading  should  in  each 
case  be  communicated  direct  to  the  author,  in 
care  of  the  publisher. 

No  performances  may  be  given  without  such  direct 
communication,  and  permission  thus  first  ob 
tained. 

As  the  publication  of  this  text  is  designed  to  serve 
the  definite  cause  for  which  it  was  written,  per- 


NOTE 

formances  must  be,  in  some  degree  at  least,  for 
the  benefit  of  Wild  Bird  Conservation. 

Music  for  the  lyrics  "  The  Hermit  Thrush  "  and 
the  three  songs  of  Quercus  has  been  composed 
by  Frederick  S.  Converse,  and  is  published  by 
the  H.  W.  Gray  Company,  2  West  45th  Street, 
New  York. 

A  bird  bath,  specially  designed  for  use  in  bird 
sanctuaries  and  gardens,  with  plastic  groupings 
of  characters  in  the  original  cast  of  this  Masque, 
has  been  executed  by  Mrs.  Louis  Saint-Gaudens, 
Cornish,  New  Hampshire,  post  office  Windsor, 
Vermont. 

The  four  photographs  in  color,  as  well  as  those  in 
black  and  white,  which  illustrate  this  volume 
were  taken  by  Dr.  Arnold  Genthe  of  enactors 
in  the  Masque,  as  first  performed  by  members 
of  the  Cornish  Colony  and  the  Meriden  Bird 
Club,  at  Meriden,  New  Hampshire,  September 
12,  1913. 


FOREWORD 

This  Masque  was  written  for  the  dedication  of 
the  bird  sanctuary  of  the  Meriden  Bird  Club 
of  Meriden,  New  Hampshire,  where  it  was  first 
performed  on  the  night  of  September  twelfth, 
1913.  The  text  was  composed,  the  lyrics  set  to 
music,  the  masque  rehearsed,  costumed  and  acted, 
within  the  brief  space  of  a  month.  Its  production 
came  about  by  a  spontaneous  and  glad  coopera 
tion  of  artists,  neighbors,  lovers  of  nature,  imbued 
with  a  deep  feeling  in  common — concern  for  the 
welfare  of  wild  birds.  In  this  important  concern 
its  enactors  were  happily  encouraged  by  the  sym 
pathetic  presence  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States  and  the  participation  of  his  family. 

Swift  and  spontaneous  as  its  production  was, 
however,  the  masque  in  its  reasons  for  being  was 
not  unpremeditated.  It  took  its  origin  from  two 
important  sources,  rarely,  if  ever,  associated — 
nature  study,  and  the  art  of  the  theatre. 

The  union  of  these  was  its  raison  d'etre.      / 

However  tentative  its  realization,  it  stands 
none  the  less  as  a  pioneering  suggestion  of  real  mo- 
[ix] 


FOREWORD 

mcnt  to  those  two  potent  influences  upon  our  na 
tional  life.  As  such  it  has  seemed  worth  while  to 
present  to  the  public,  and  to  make  clear  the  sug 
gestion  which  it  illustrates,  however  sketchily. 

From  a  recent  volume  by  the  writer  on  "The 
Civic  Theatre,  in  Relation  to  the  Redemption  of 
Leisure,"  I  quote  the  following  paragraphs  upon 
"Nature  Symbols,"  as  they  apply  directly  to  this 
subject : 

"The  relation  of  the  theatre's  art  to  the  natural 
ist's  vocation  is  probably  not  obvious  to  the  man 
on  the  street.  That  is  because  the  commercial 
theatre  relates  itself  to  so  few  of  the  pursuits  of 
science  outside  of  Broadway  interests.  The  civic 
theatre  would  do  otherwise. 

"Aristophanes  symbolized  the  birds  for  the  pur 
poses  of  Greek  satire.  The  costuming  of  his  play 
in  Athens  probably  expressed  no  direct  attribution 
to  the  science  of  ornithology.  Yet  its  attribution 
to  the  Greek  race's  intimate  love  of  Nature  was 
as  spontaneous  as  the  symbolizing  of  flowers  in  the 
capitals  of  their  temple  columns.  The  movement 
to-day  for  the  conservation  of  our  birds  and  their 
more  intimate  study  might  well  take  on  significant, 
lovely  forms  of  symbolic  expression  in  pageants, 
festivals  and  the  drama  of  the  civic  theatre. 

"By  the  same  art,  the  fascinating  designs,  em- 


FOREWORD 

bossings,  colorings,  of  insect  forms  could  be  sym 
bolized  in  spectacles  of  astonishing  beauty,  moti 
vated  dramatically  to  the  real  and  tremendous 
human  relation  which  that  ignored  but  pestiferous 
race  bears  to  human  society  and  the  state ;  as  wit 
ness  the  movement,  involving  millions  in  taxes,  for 
exterminating  the  gypsy  moth  and  the  boll  weevil. 

"Such  implications  for  art  may  seem,  at  first, 
a  far  cry  from  actual  possibilities  of  the  theatre ; 
yet  thus  may  the  civic  theatre  directly  relate  its 
activities  not  only  to  the  enthusiasms  of  natural 
ists  in  the  fields  and  woods,  but  to  the  inspiring 
studies  of  scholars  in  their  laboratories:  a  co 
operation  which  may  soon  stultify  the  popular  no 
tion  that  art  and  science  are  divorced  in  their 
special  aims.  The  same  relation  of  the  theatre's 
symbolic  art  to-  all  the  sciences — the  discoveries  of 
chemistry,  the  splendid  imaginings  of  engineering 
— is  implied  in  their  common  aim:  the  bringing  of 
greater  joy,  beauty,  understanding,  to  our  fellow 
men  and  women,  the  people. 

"Science  represents  idea,  art  its  expression ;  the 
atrical  art  its  expression  in  forms  best  adapted  to 
convened  numbers  of  the  people.  The  forms  of 
popular  art,  therefore,  are  limited  only  by  the 
ideas  of  man." 

It  is  thus  as  an  illustration  of  one  of  the  mult.i- 

[xi] 


FOREWORD 

form  genres  of  the  civic  theatre's  potential  art 
that  this  little  masque  has  its  main  significance. 

Before  the  actual  establishment  of  the  Civic 
Theatre  among  us,  the  opportunities  of  the  work 
ing  dramatist  to  make  tangible  contributions  by 
his  art  to  its  repertory  are,  of  course,  very  scant 
and  at  best  groping  and  experimental.  One  such 
as  the  present  may  serve,  however,  to  suggest 
certain  immediate,  practical  possibilities. 

If,  for  instance,  every  bird  sanctuary  were  to 
possess  its  stage  and  auditorium  for  bird  masques 
— if  every  Natural  History  Museum  had  its  out 
door  theatre,  equipped  to  set  forth  the  multitudi 
nous  human  meanings  of  its  nature  exhibits  to  the 
crowds  that  frequent  its  doors  in  their  hours  of 
leisure — if  the  directors  of  every  Zoological  Park 
were  to  provide  for  it  a  scenic  arena,  and  seek  the 
civic  cooperation  of  the  dramatic  poet  and  the 
atrical  expert,  to  vivify  by  their  art  the  tre 
mendous  life  stories  of  wild  nature  to  the  receptive 
minds  of  the  human  thousands  convened  to  listen 
and  behold — by  such  means,  would  not  the  disci 
ples  of  nature  study  not  simply  adopt  for  their 
own  ends  a  means  of  education  and  publicity  a 
thousandfold  more  dynamic,  imaginative  and 
popular  than  any  of  the  static  means  of  exhibits, 
lectures  and  published  volumes  on  which  they 

[xii] 


FOREWORD 

now  rely :  would  they  not  also  thereby  splendidly 
assist  in  enlarging  the  civic  scope  of  the  theatre's 
art,  still  cramped,  as  for  generations,  within  the 
walls  of  speculation  and  commercialism? 

These  suggestions  speak  for  themselves. 

If  this  Bird  Masque  shall  help,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  to  illustrate  them,  it  will  do  its  ephemeral 
service  in  the  only  permanent  sanctuary  of  men  as 
of  birds — imagination. 

PERCY  MACKAYE. 
CORNISH,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE, 

October,  1913. 


[xiii] 


PERSONS  OF  THE  MASQUE1 

in   the  order  of  their  appearance 

QUERCUS,  faun 
ALWYN,  poet 
SHY,  naturalist 
TACITA,  dryad 
ORNIS,  bird  spirit 
STARK,  plume  hunter 

PARTICIPANTS  IN   PANTOMIME 

Hunter  Attendants  of  Stark 

Many  species  of  birds  —  in  human  form,  garbed 
symbolically 

SCENE 

The  sylvan  glade  of  a  bird  sanctuary. 


1  The  complete  programme  of  the  original  production  of 
the  masque,  as  first  enacted  at  Meriden,  New  Hampshire, 
by  members  of  the  Cornish  Colony  and  the  Meriden  Bird 
Club,  is  printed  in  the  AFTERWORD  of  this  volume. 


THE  PRELUDE 


THE     LITTLE     GIRL     FALLS     INTO     RE  V  ERIE 


THE  PRELUDE 

Wandering  in  the  quiet  of  the  bird  sanctuary, 
a  little  girl  hears  the  roice  of  a  hermit 
thrush,,  and  meditates  this  song : 

THE  SONG 
While  walking  through  a  lonely  wood 

I  heard  a  lovely  voice : 
A  voice  so  fresh  and  true  and  good 

It  made  my  heart  rejoice. 

It  sounded  like  a  Sunday  hell 

Rung  softly  in  a  town. 
Or  like  a  stream  that  in  a  dell 

Forever  trickles  down. 

It  seemed  to  be  a  voice  of  love 

That  always  had  loved  me, 
So  softly  it  rang  out  above. 

So  wild  and  wanderingly. 

O  Voice,  were  you  a  golden  dove. 

Or  just  a  plain  gray  bird? 
O  Voice,  you  are  my  wandering  love 

Lost,  yet  forever  heard, 
[xix] 


SANCTUARY 

Passing  on  deeper  into  the  wood,  the  little 
girl  thinks  dreamily  of  all  wild  birds  and 
the  wrongs  done  to  them  by  their  human 
brothers  and  sisters. 

Out  of  her  reverie  grows  the  Masque  which 
follows. 


[XX] 


THE  MASQUE 


THE  MASQUE 

I 

Dawn. 

The  woods  are  silent,  save  for  bird  pipings. 

In  the  background,  verdure  of  young  pines 
and  ancient  boles  of  oaks  form  the  dim- 
pillared  entrance  to  a  forest  shrine. 

Artfully  placed  on  tree  trunk  and  bough  are 
nest  boxes  of  bark. 

On  one  side  stands  a  low  weather  cock  food- 
house;  on  the  other,  a  tall  martin-house 
pole. 

In  the  shade  of  a  great  oak  glimmers  the 
shallow  pool  of  a  bird  bath. 
[3] 


SANCTUARY 

Peeping  at  this  from  behind  the  oak,  ap 
pears,  vanishes  and  appears  again  the 
horned  head  of  QUERCUS,  a  faun. 

Stealing  forth,  QUERCUS  approaches  the 
pool,  bearing  in  one  hand  an  enormous 
pitcher  plant. 

Peering  upward  among  the  boughs,  he  raises 

his  voice  in  quaint  falsetto,  and  sings. 

QUERCUS 

Veery,  veery ! — vireo ! 

Waxwing  wild! — warbler  wary! 
Ori-  ori-  oriole! 

Seek  our  sanctuary! 
Robin  rath, 

Little  tail-twitcher, 

Drink  from  my  pitcher, 
Dip  in  my  bath! 
Dew's  in  my  bath, 

Rain's  in  my  pitcher, 
Dawn's  in  the  greenwood  eerie : 

Hither,  highhole ! 

Redpoll! 

Oriole ! 

Vireo!  -  veery! 

[From  his  pitcher  plant  QUERCUS  pours 
[4] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 

into  tlie  bird  bath.  Skipping  then  to 
a  little  swinging  bird-house,,  he  sprinkles 
its  shelf  with  seed  from  a  pouch.  Here 
he  pauses  dreamily;  furtively  takes  out 
and  fingers  a  pipe;  blows  a  few  notes, 
pauses,  starts,  puts  it  quickly  away, 
stoops  his  ear  to  the  ground,  springs 
away  to  the  oak,  and  snatches  an  ivied 
staff  which  stands  against  the  trunk. 
The  staff  is  designed  like  a  martin- 
house  pole  in  miniature.  Placing  him 
self  on  guard  where  a  foot-path  enters 
the  glade,  he  calls:] 

Stand  yonder!     Hold!  who  treads  beneath 
my  trees? 

A  VOICE 

[Outside.] 

A  friend. 

QUERCUS 
A  friend  to  what  ? 

THE  VOICE 

To  Song,  and  Song's  melodious  silences. 
[5] 


SANCTUARY 
QUERCUS 

Still  enter  not. 

The  race  of  wings  reigns  in  this  solitude. 

No  foot  may  here  intrude 

Without  fair  passport.     Tell  me  first  your 

name 
And  cause  of  coming  here. 


[6] 


II 

QUERCUS.     ALWYN. 


[A   YOUNG   MAN    enters,  pausing   in   the 
patli.] 

THE    MAN 

[ROM  hence  even  now  a  pip 
ing  filled  mine  ear 
With     quaintish     memory : 

familiar, 
Yet  old,  it  seemed.     Long 

since,  I  heard  the  same 
Lulling     to     paleness     the 

white  morning  star 
Among  Sicilian  oaks.     So  here  I  came 
To  spy  upon  the  piper.     Now,  methinks, 
I  know  him,  by  those  horns  and  merry  winks. 
—Good  morrow,  Quercus,  the  faun! 

QUERCUS 

Now,  by  Lord  Pan ! 

The  poet's  ear  and  eye  still  spy  me  out. — 
[7] 


SANCTUARY 

Alwyn,  maker  of  songs — hail  to  you,  master! 
You ! — Can  it  really  be? 

ALWYN 

It  can, 

And  is — by  Pan,  our  ancient  pastor! 
But  you,  slant  shanks,  what  make  you  here 
at  dawn? 

QUERCUS 

Newf  angleness !     The  classic  gout 
Still  crooks  my  knees  with  the  old  lyric  wine, 
But  now  they  run  new  errands. 

[Flourishing  his  staff.] 

Lo,  the  sign 
Of  my  new  office! 

ALWYN 
New!     What  may  that  be? 

QUERCUS 

Wood  warden  of  the  wild  birds'  sanctuary: 
Janitor  of  their  sylvan  temple! — See, 
My  staff  acclaims  me.     Poor  Mercutius! 
Old  mythologic  nature-faker, 
He's  out  of  date  with  his  caduceus. 
Behold  in  me 

A  modern  science-tutored  fairy 
[8] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 

And  practical  care-taker— 
Grand  marshal  of  the  martin-house! 
ALWYN 

[Pointing  at  QUERCUS'  staff '.] 

Of  that? 

QUERCUS 

Xay,  this,  my  bard,  is  but  the  breviat 
And  little  pattern. 

[Pointing  toward  a  tall  martin-house  pole.] 

Yonder,  you  behold 

The  real  palace.     Through  those  portals 
We  lure  the  feathered  broods  to  fold 
Their  wings  above  the  world  of  thievish  mor 
tals. 

ALWYN 

We — say  you?     Who  are  we? 

QUERCUS 

Myself  and  my  lord  master. 

ALWYX 

And  what's  he? 
QUERCUS 

Xay,  if  I  knew,  I  should  be  wiser. 
He  is  the  fellow  of  all  friendless  things, 
[9] 


SANCTUARY 

Wild  nature's  human  sympathizer: 
In  form  a  man,  yet  footed  so  with  silence 
The  deer  mistake  him  for  their  brother ;  so 
Swift  that,  meseems,  he  borrows  the  birds' 

wings ; 

An  eye,  that  glows  and  twinks 
Through  noon  like  twilight's  vesper  star; 

an  ear 

That  harks  a  mile  hence 
The  purring  of  a  lynx ! 
I  love  him,  follow,  obey  him,  yet  I  know 
Xaught  of  him — but  his  love. 

ALWYN 

Xot  even  his  name? 

QUERCUS 

Yea,  what  men  call  him  by; 
And  he  is  like  the  same. 
Men  call  him  Master  Shy. 

ALWYN 

Ah,   Shy,  the  naturalist. 
Why,  he  is  my  good  crony.     If  he  wist 
[10] 


SANCTUARY 

To  rhyme  he'd  be  a  better  bard  than  I. 
How  do  you  serve  him? 

QUERCUS 

I'm  crew  to  his  Jason! 
I  multiply  myself  for  rare  adventures, 
And  serve  his  Ship  of  Birds  as  carpenter, 
Box- joiner,  bath-cementer,  mason, 
Seed-storer,  water-carrier, 
Worm-steward,  nest-ward,  treehouse  thatch- 

er, 
Man-chaser  and  mouse-catcher. 

ALWYN 

Nay,  do  you  please  in  all? 

QUERCUS 

I  carry  to  his  call, 

And  never  yet  have  earned  his  censures 

For  botch  or  shirk. 

ALWYN 

I  prithee  show  me  of  your  handiwork. 
What's  here — this  little  box 
With  paddle  wings? 


SANCTUARY 
QUERCUS 

One  of  our  weather-cocks. 

Look  you,  it  swings: 

So  when,  in  winter,  the  white  tempest  blows, 

Here   sit   the   birds   at   breakfast   'mid   the 

snows, 

With  porch  turned  ever  to  the  cosy  side. 
In  that  cold  time,  my  master  Shy 
Brings  more  devices  to  provide 
Bird-comfort :     Food-bells  full  of  millet 
We  place  in  covert  nooks,  and  tie 
Our  knitted  suet  bags  on  many  a  bough 
Of  pine  and  larch.     And  I  must  plough 
Through  many  a  drift,  to  crack  the  frozen 

rillet 
For  little  beaks  to  drink. 

ALWYN 

By  Phoebus,  now 

Is  this  in  sooth  mine  old  Sicilian  faun, 
That  wont  of  yore  to  dally 
On  violet-scented  lawn 

With  lily-crowned  nymphs  in  lovelorn  val 
ley!* 
What     modern     change     is     here?     What 


magic — 


[12] 


SANCTUARY 
QUERCUS 

Hush! 

[With  lowered  voice,  he  looks  around  war 
ty-] 

I  am  not  always  quite  so  modern! 
At  times — at  times — as  when  just  now 
You  heard  me  pipe  below  this  bough— 
I  slip  my  master's  traces, 
And  slink  by  paths  untrodden 
To  lovelorn,  lush 
Arcadian  places, 
Where  Philomel  still  lingers, 
Plaining  her  ancient  pity, 
And  there  I  fetch  forth  this 
With  idling  fingers, 
And,  pouting  on  its  lip  my  kiss, 
I  pipe  some  dulcet,  old,  bucolic  ditty. 
[Taking  out  his  pipe,  he  plays  again  a 

few  languorous  strains,  but  breaks  off 

abruptly.  ] 
Whist!     Here  he  comes. — It  grates  upon 

his  ear. 


[13] 


IS    THIS    IN    SOOTH    MINE    OLD    SICILIAN    PAUNf 


Ill 


SHY.     QUERCUS.     ALWYX. 


SHY 

[Enters,  carrying  a  nest-box. ,] 

HERMIT  thrush  is  pleasanter 
to  hear. 

[He  greets  ALWYX.] 
Good    morning,    friend!     How 

comes  it  you  are  caught 
Walking    so    early?     Poets,    I 

had  thought, 
Salute  the  sunrise  only  in  their 
song. 

ALWYX 

\JSmiKng  J\ 

Fie,  then!     You  do  us  wrong: 

We  rhyming  slugabeds 

Walk  with  Aurora  at  our  pillows'  heads, 

For  dreamers  can  see  dawn  rise  in  the  dark. 

Poets  are  owls  that  elegize  the  lark. 

SHY 
And  now  you'll  talk  to  me  of  nightingales! 

[15] 


SANCTUARY 

Three  birds  exhaust  your  bard's  vocabulary : 

Larks,  nightingales  and  owls!     High  time, 
you  see, 

To  wean  this  fellow  from  your  piper's  tales, 

And  teach  him  craftily 

To  build  our  hungry  birds  a  homelike  sanc 
tuary. 

ALWYN 

[Patting  QUERCUS'  shoulder.] 
Good  Shy,  no  schooling  could  so  much  relieve 
My  modern  apprehensions:     Tutor  him, 
Hoof,  head  and  limb, 
And    let    me    humbly    hearken.     By    your 

leave, 

God  shall  provide  the  da\vn, 
And  you  the  tutelage,  and  I — the  faun. 

QUERCUS 
Waiting,  my  masters! 

ALWYN 

Give  your  pipe  to  me! 

QUERCUS 

[Holding  it  behind  him.'} 
Must  I  give  up  my  pipe?     The  sound  is 
sweet. 

[16] 


SANCTUARY 

ALWYN 

Truth  is  more  sweet  than  melody, 

And  wisdom  than  melodious  words. 

When  you  have  learned  to  greet 

With  their  own  mystic  speech  all  living  birds 

And  minister  to  their  necessity, 

This   pipe   shall  be   restored,    and   we   will 
make 

Together  a  new  song,  more  sweet  for  knowl 
edge'  sake. 

[In  pantomime,  he  demands  and  receives 
the  pipe  from  QUERCUS.  SHY  then  ad 
dresses  QUERCUS.] 

SHY 

This  nest-box :     Nail  it  on  the  barest  bough 
Of  that  tall  maple.     Place  it  well, 
Like  yonder  one. 

QUERCUS 

Right,  master.     Now! 

SHY 

Soft,  soft!     Not  so  pell-mell! 
You'll  scare  that  nuthatch  at  her  nesting. 
First  tell  me  of  your  other  questing— 
Those  errands  which  I  sent  you  yesterday. 

[17] 


SANCTUARY 

QUERCUS 
That  cowbird,  master, — 

SHY 

Did  she  lay 
Her  egg? 

QUERCUS 

Indeed  she  did,  the  pest ! 
She  laid  it  in  a  redstart's  nest; 
But  up  I  poked  my  nose  in,  nabbed  it 
And  cracked  it  cursory: 
Good  Mama  Redstart  now  can  hatch  her 

nursery 

Without    a    big   stepchild    to    smother    her 
chicks. 

SHY 

Old  Deacon  Rathburne's  tom-cat,  is  he- 
dead? 

QUERCUS 

What,  Tom,  that  dabbled  in  gore  the  wee 
goldfinches  ? 

[He  nods  shrewdly.] 

Wild  huckleberries  are  growing  at  his  head! 
That  almost  got  you  in  the  fix: 
Old  Deacon  saw  me  do  it,  blabbed  it, 
[18] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 

And  Missus  sicked  her  dachshund  at  my 
heels. 

[Grinning.] 

Eh,  master,  it's  your  shoe  that  pinches! 

SHY 

When  cats  invade  bird-temples,  boy,  it  feels 
Good  to  be  wicked. 

But  tell  me  of  our  forest  planting  ground: 
What  shrubs  and  creepers  have  you  found 
And  marked,  to  make  our  shelter  thicket? 

QUERCUS 

Why,  sir,  to  give  it 
Birdblithesomeness,  I've  chose 
Shad  bush,  blue  cornel,  withe  rod,  privet, 
Red  osier,  raspberry,  wild  rose, 
Black  haw,  and  dangleberry. 

SHY 

A  proper  list! 
What  trees — deciduous  ? 

QUERCUS 

Box-elder  and  bird  cherry, 
White  ash,  gray  birch  and  cockspur  thorn. 
[19] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  11  Y 

ALAVYN 

What  make  you  thus? 

Some  sylvan  pound,  to  stalk  an  unicorn? 

SHY 

Good  poet,  whist! 

Xo  more  mythology. 

Your  faun  is  learning  better.     Truce! 

ALWYN 
Most  humbly,  my  apology! 

SHY 
So,  Quercus:  and  what  evergreens? 

QUERCUS 

White  spruce, 
Red  cedar,  balsam  fir,  and  Norway  pine. 

SHY 

Good,  fellow!     Fine! 
In  such  a  shelter- tangle  we  can  hatch 
Ten  thousand  nestlings.     Run,  now  1     Catch 
That  squirrel  there,  before 
He  makes  his  call  at  your  new  nest-box  door. 
[20] 


SANCTUAll  Y 

QUERCUS 

[Skipping  to  the  maple  tree.'} 
Right,  master! — Heigh,  Sir  Alwyn — ho! 
Just   see  now  what   a  jack-o'-trades   your 

Quercus  is! 

When  Master  Shy  discharges  me,  I'll  go 
And  rent  nine  fairy-rings,  and  start  three 

circuses ! 

[Climbing  among  the  branches,  he  disap 
pears,  whistling  bird-notes.] 


A  L  W  Y  N 


IV 

ALWYN.     SHY. 


ALWYN 

HY — honest  friend,  your  hand 
once  more! 

SHY 

Heartily!     Welcome     to     this 
wood. 

ALWYN 

Do    you    recall    how    once    we 
stood 
Here,  and  discoursed  of  songs  I  made  of 

yore — 
Dryads  and  poet's  dreams? 

SHY 

Yes,  I  recall 
I  wondered  at  them  all. 

ALWYN 

First — as  to-day — you  smiled 
Your  incredulity  of  my  quaint  creed, 
Till  soon,  in  further  converse,  we  agreed 
[23] 


SANCTUARY 

In  nature's  heart  our  faiths  are  reconciled. 
For  both  of  us  seek  nature's  fellowship, 
The  common  language  of  all  living  things: 
I — more  in  music  of  the  human  lip, 
You — in  the  whirr  of  beaks  and  wings. 
So  both- — craving  the  beautiful- 
Still  worship  the  same  shrine  and  oracle: 
This  temple,  and  its  dryad — Tacita. 

SHY 

I  will  confess 

Of  all  the  nymphs  in  your  Arcadia 
I  worship  her 
Alone. 

ALWYN 

Because  her  moods  are  numberless 
I  do  the  same.  Between  the  heart  of  Man 
And  Nature's  heart,  which  I  do  name  God 

Pan, 

She  stands  and  moves — divine  interpreter, 
Translating  with  her  shy  and  pagan  dances 
Our  world  life  and  its  trances. 

SHY 

She  is,  in  truth, 
The  sylvan  priestess  of  this  sanctuary. 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 

ALWYN 

[Eagerly.] 

What  if,  through  her  as  intermediary, 
And  after  thousand  ages  of  uncouth 
Estrangement, — what,  I  say,  if  we 
Might  find  through  her  the  key 
To  comprehend  the  native  speech  of  birds, 
And  hold  communion  with  them  in  our  hu 
man  words! 

Would  not  that  be  a  modern  consummation 
Nobler  than  fable? 

SHY 

Almost,  I  would  have  said,  we  might  be  able, 
If  it  were  not  for  one  who  scorns  this  shrine 
And  violates  the  beauty  of  creation, 
Marring  all  contemplative  quietude. 

ALWYX 
Whom  do  you  speak  of? 

SHY 

One  whom  the  red  wine 
Of  slaughter  has  made  drunk,  and  the  false 

glister 

Of  dollars  dazzled  with  blind  arrogance. 
[25] 


SANCTUARY 

Close  by  this  wood 

He  plies  a  bold,  sinister 

Traffic    in    wings    and    plumage.     Not    by 

chance 

But  calculated  orgies,  he  commits 
His  venal  murders,  slits 
The  bridal  plumes  from  backs  of  mating 

birds, 

And  leaves  the  nested  broods 
Unhatched  or  starveling.     So  he  girds 
His  loins,  and  like  the  Patagonian 
Displays  his  feathered  trophies:  not  a  man 
Swayed  by  ecstatic  moods, 
Xor  even  to  equip 
A  hardy  sportsmanship; 
Not  so:  he  slaughters  birds  for  stocks  and 

bonds, 

And  when  we  challenge,  smiling  he  responds : 
"Mine  is  a  lawful  market,  where  fine  ladies 

pay 

For    plumes,    to    wear    on    Sabbaths    and 
Christ's  Easter  day." 

ALWYN 

What  is  this  desecrator's  name? 
[26] 


SANCTUARY 

SHY 

Stark,  the  plume-hunter. 

ALWYN 

Surely  he  dares  not 
Track  his  defenseless  game 
Here  to  this  hallowed  spot! 

SHY 

No  place  is  holy  to  unhallowed  minds : 
He  covets  gain,  and  grasps  it  where  he  finds. 

ALWYN 

Still  I  have  faith 

That  Tacita,  in  her  serenity, 

Is  mightier  than  he. 

SHY 

Ah,  nature's  quiet  mood  is  delicate 
And  crushes  like  a  flower. 

ALWYN 
Faith  without  works  is  vain,  the  Prophet 

saith. 

So  now,  while  nature  muses  in  the  thrush, 
Here  let  us  sit  this  hour, 
[27] 


SANCTUARY 

And  meditate 

On  Tacita,  till  meditation  shall  create 

Its  own  shy  image. — Hush! 

[They  sit  upon  a  log  and  listen.'] 


[28] 


V 

TACITA.     ALWYN.     SHY. 

[Dreamily,  the  fluting  of  birds  sounds  in 
the  forest.  Dimly  from  the  background 
TACITA  appears.  With  steps  of  rev 
erie,  she  approaches,  and  pauses  before 
them.  ALWYX  looks  up  and,  touching 
SHY'S  arm,  speaks  low.] 

ACITA!     It  is  she! 

SHY 

Speak  to  her — you. 

ALWYN 

Dryad,  and  spirit  of  serenity, 
Whose  steps  have  fallen  timeful 
as  the  dew 

Upon  our  pathway,  intervene 
For  us  with  that  still-undiscovered  queen— 
Ornis,    who    reigns    among    your    ancient 
boughs 

[29] 


SANCTUARY 

Spirit  of  birds  and  sister  of  our  race, 

Man.     Stir  your  spell-enchanted  feet, 

And  by  their  moods  arouse 

Her  hidden  grace 

To  heed  us,  and  hold  speech  from  realms  un 
seen. 

[To  mysterious  music,  TACITA  treads  a 
dance  of  invocation,  appealing  in  pan 
tomime  to  the  unseen  s^nrit  of  wings, 
which  flits  and  sings  and  broods  in  the 
boughs  above  her.  ALWYN  and  SHY 
watch  her,  rapt  and  expectant. 

Suddenly  a  sharp  gun-shot  sounds, 
shivering  the  music,  which  ceases. 
Through  the  boughs,  a  bird  falls  flutter 
ing  to  the  earth.] 


[30] 


VI 

ORXIS.     ALWYX.     SHY. 

[With  a  gesture  of  startled  wildncss, 
TACITA  breaks  abruptly  from,  her 
rhythmic  motions,  and  flees  into  the 
wood,  while  simultaneously  from  the 
other  side  there  enters,  swift  but  stag 
gering,  ORXIS — a  maiden,  garbed  sym 
bolically  as  a  bird.  On  one  of  her  wing- 
like  sleeves  blood  shows.  With  shrill, 
melodious  cry,  she  flutters  forward. 

ORXIS 

IE-O-LEE!      O-ree-o!      Sanc 
tuary  ! 

[Swaying,  she  falls  to  the 
ground.  ALWYX  and  SHY 
spring  toward  her.~\ 

ALWYX 
Help,  Shy!     She  falls! 

SHY 

[At  ORXIS'  side.'] 
Wing-struck !     Here's  blood. 
[31] 


SANCTUARY 
ALWYN 

That  shot? 

SHY 

The  gun  of  Stark. 

[Seeking  to  lift  her.~\ 

Up,  birdling!     Here  is  Shy. 

ORNIS 

[Droops,  moaning.'] 
O-ree-o ! 

SHY 
Quick!     Bring  Quercus. 

ALWYN 

[Hastening  off] 

In  a  jot. 

SHY 

[Soothingly  strokes  ORNIS'  arm  and  shoul 
der.] 

So — so!     Dew  water  soon  makes  well.     So 
—so! 

ORNIS 

[Moans  dazedly] 
Ir-re-o!     P'tee! 


SANCTUARY 

QUERCUS 

[R centering  with  ALAVYN.] 
Here,  master! 

SHY 

[Pointing.} 

Water!— There! 

ALWYN 

The  bird  bath! 

QUERCUS 

[Dipping  his  plant  pitcher,  hastens  with  it 
to  SHY.] 
Coming! 

SHY 

Sprinkle. 
QUERCUS 

[Sprinkling  water  upon  ORNIS,  sings jjaily]. 

O-ree-o! 
When  shawes  ben  sheen  and  shraddes  full 

fair, 

And  leaves  both  large  and  long, 
'Tis  merry  walking  in  the  fair  forest 
To  hear  the  small  birds'  song! 
[ORNIS  revives^} 
[33] 


SANCTUARY 

SHY 

[Assisting  her.'} 
Now,  gently! 

ALWYN 

[Bending  over  her,  calls  low.} 
Ornis ! — Sister ! 

ORNIS 

Who  calls?     Where 
Ami? 

ALWYN 

In  sanctuary.     Have  no  fear. 

ORNIS 

[Looking  from  one  to  the  other.} 
Ah,  me!     But  what  are  these? 

SHY 

Your  brothers,  dear. 

ORNIS 

My  brothers — they  are  birds.     But  you  are 
Man, 

ALWYN 

Through  Tacita  you  know  us  now;  we  can 
Speak  to  each  other.     Ornis! — Hark. 
[34] 


SANCTUARY 

ORNIS 

[Rising  in  glad  wonder.] 

At  last!— 

At  last! 

ALWYN 

A  thousand  ages — they  are  past, 
And  dumbness,  like  a  dream, 
Sinks  with  them  into  sleep.     We  are  awake, 
And  each  to  each 
Can  bid  good-morning  in  our  common  speech. 

ORNIS 

How  sweet  and  strange!     Are  we  indeed 

awaking 

From  callous  slumber  and  old  wrong? 
So  sorrowfully  long 
The  hand  of  Man  has  wrought  my  birds' 

heartbreaking ! — 
Was  it  a  savage  dream? 
Methought  I  sat  on  Morning's  golden  beam 
And  sang  of  God's  wild  gladness:     High 

and  higher 

I  showered  His  temple  woods  with  ecstasy; 
When  suddenly 

[35] 


SANCTUARY 

The  earth  screamed  thunder,  and  a  singeing 

fire 

Shattered  my  wing.     I  fell.— 
Groping  in  flight,  my  feet  stuek  fast 
In  smear  of  lime;  swift  from  below 
A  tangling  net  was  cast 
Where,  panting  upward,  a  black  hell 
Of  bloody  mouths  barked  under  me; 
And  there  beside  them — oh, 
There  watched,  with  eyes  of  wanton  cruelty, 
A    man — bright    clothed    in    many-colored 

plumes 
Of  my  dead  sisters.     "Save  me  from  their 

dooms," 
I  cried,  "O  Sanctuary!" 

ALWYN 

And  you  woke 
With  us,  your  brothers — healed. 

ORNIS 
[With  wonder. ,] 

Oh,  have  you  heard 
What  now  I  spoke? 
And  can  we  answer  truly,  word  for  word? 

[Curiously.] 
Alwyn ! 

[36] 


SANCTUARY 

ALWYN 

You  know  my  name  ? 

ORNIS 

[Turning  eagerly  from  one  to  the  other. ] 

Shy! 

SHY 

[Smiling.'] 

No  mistake! 
ORNIS 
Quercus ! 

QUERCUS 

[Skipping  with  a  bow."] 
Your  birdship's  faun! 

ORNIS 
[Laughing  joyously.'] 

Good-morning,  brothers ! 

ALWYN 

When  have  you  known  us? 

ORNIS 

Many  an  age  and  long! 
No  syllable  has  bubbled  in  your  song 
But  I  have  blown  it  first  from  yonder  trees: 


SANCTUARY 

[To  SHY.] 

No  brooding-place  of  yours — but  I  was  in 
the  breeze; 

[To  QUERCUS.] 
And  ever  to  your  whistle 
I  pipe  the  last  note  from  the  nearest  thistle. 

[TACITA  appears  remotely.] 
O  beautiful  my  brothers ! 

0  dryad  dear,  I  thank  you !     In  your  dawn, 
How  brave  it  is  to  speak  with  Man  and  Faun 
As  mates  and  fellows.     Quick!     Fetch  me 

still  others. 

[A  crashing  resounds  in  the  thicket.     TAC 
ITA  disappears.] 
Who's  coming  now? 

SHY 
Still  others — our  fellow  man. 

ORNIS 

1  hear  a  breaking  bough. 

ALWYN 

Kind  hearts  and  cruel  are  one  clan. 
[38] 


SANCTUARY 
ORNIS 

Hark!     Surely  'tis  some  strange  distress. 
Come,  brothers,  let  us  look: 
It  may  be  one  who  needs  our  friendliness. 
Come  with  me! 

ALWYN 

[Calling  off  scene.] 
Stand  there!     Stay  beyond  the  brook. 

QUERCUS 

[With  excited  gestures.] 
Back,  ho! 

ORNIS 
[Suddenly  recoiling  with  a  cry] 

Ah,  save  me! 

[She  flies  to  their  protection.  QUERCUS 
also  scampers  back  fearfully,  and 
hides] 


[39] 


VII 

STARK.     ORNIS.     ALWYN.     SHY. 


[Enter  STARK,  in  garb  of  a  hunter.  He 
wears  a  tawny  leopard's  skin,  and  his 
head  is  gorgeously  plumed.  Behind 
him,  two  panting  dogs  are  held  in  leash 
by  attendants.  STARK  rushes  toward 
ORNIS,  passes  her  oblivious,  and  seizes 
up  the  fallen  bird.~\ 

STARK 

AGGED!— Hold  off  the  dogs! 
[The  ATTENDANTS  withdraw  with 
the  hounds.] 

ORNIS 

[As     STARK     grasps     the     bird, 
clutches  her  own  side  in  pain.~\ 
Ee-6-lo! 

STARK 

A  rare  beauty! — Bah,  one  wing 
Shot-torn !     Well,  well,  we'll  patch  the  thing. 
[40] 


••••••••••••••••••••••••I 

1 '  Sir  —  Here  is  No  Hunting ' ' 


SANCTUARY 
STARK 

Why,  man,  I  am  no  hunter,  and  that's  flat. 
I  only  plume  myself — to  trim  a  hat. 
Besides,  I  shot  outside  your  pale ; 
And  now 

[Touching  his  pouch,  lie  winks.'] 
the  game  is  bagged. 

SHY 

You  bag  the  spangle 
And  lose  the  spirit. — Sir,  here  is  no  place 
To  preach  or  wrangle 

Our  creeds.     I  am  a  student,  not  a  teacher. 
So  I  would  only  learn  of  you:  what  joy 
Urges  you  to  destroy 
So  gracious,  fair 
And  innocent  a  fellow-creature 
As  yonder? 

[He  points  at  ORNIS.] 

STARK 

[Looking.'] 
Where  ? 

[42] 


SANCTUARY 
ALWYN 

Our  sister,  who  stands  there 

And  dumbly  pleads  for  all  her  race — 

And  ours. 


STARK 

By  Christ  in  Hades, 
My  eyes  see  nothing  but  a  brace 
Of  popinjays,  who  pipe  to  me  of  ladies 
And  show  me — no  one. 


ALWYN 

Look  more  near. 
Speak  to  him,  Ornisf — Listen,  now! 


O-ree-o! 


ORNIS 
[Drawing  back  in  dread.'} 

STARK 
I  am  listening. 

[43] 


No  voice? 


SANCTUARY 
ALWYN 

Did  you  hear 
STARK 


I  heard  a  bird  call  from  that  bough. 


QUERCUS 

[Peeping  toward  SHY  from  the  bushes.] 
Have  at  him,  master! 

SHY 

[To  STARK.] 

Did  you  spy 

That  fellow's  horns  there,  when  he  drew  back 
Into  the  bush? 

STARK 

I  saw 

A  stirring  in  that  staghorn  sumach, 
And  caught  a  rabbit's  eye. — 
What  are  these  crazy  quizzings  ?     Pshaw ! 
Good  day  to  you! 

[44] 


SANCTUARY 

ALWYN 

Stay  yet! 
Once  more  look  yonder,  where  my  comrade 

stands, 
Turning    to    take    the    gentle,    outreached 

hands 

Of  our  shy  sister:     Can  you  see 
No  timid  form  beside  him? 

STARK 

Perfectly 
My  eyes  discern 

A  man,  who  peers  within  the  morning  mist, 
And  murmurs  to  the  air, 
And   smiles,  as  if  he  held  sweet  converse 

there. 

In  short,  I  see  a  sentimentalist. 
I  am  not  of  that  ilk. 

[Calling]—  Ho,  there!— Hola! 
Wait  with  my  dogs:     I'm  coming. 

ALWYN 

Stay,  and  learn 

What    we     ourselves    have    only    learned 
through  quiet 

[45] 


SANCTUARY 

Listening.     So  long,  in  rampant  haste, 

Your  dizzy  soul  has  chased 

The  spinning  dollar  sign  which  stars  your 

zodiac, 

That  you  have  lost  the  track 
Of  paths  serene,  and  pace  God's  world  in 

riot 
Of   blinding    gold.     Pause,    for    this    little 

space ! 

Put  off  that  blood-emblazed  regalia 
Gorgeous  with  death, 

And  draw  with  me  one  meditative  breath 
Here  in  the  temple  of  cool  Tacita. 

STARK 

[Who  has  listened  with  half-amused  curi 
osity.] 

Ah — Tacita?     And     who     may     that     be, 
friend  ? 

ALWYN 

One  lovelier  than  you  have  yet  set  eyes  on. 

SHY 

Go,  Quercus :     Pray  our  mistress  to  attend. 

[QUERCUS  goes  out.] 

[46] 


SANCTUARY 
STARK 

Mistress!     Is  she  a  maid? — and  lovely,  too? 
And  may  this  wonder  dawn  on  my  horizon 
If  I  remain? 

ALWYN 

Remain — to  meditate! 

STARK 

Why,  now,  you  stir  my  fancies. 

In  truth,  'tis  early  still,  and  little  to  do 

This  hour.     Come,  I  will  wait 

And    watch    with    you.     But    mind!     The 

nymph  must  be 
More  lovely  than  my  eyes  did  ever  see! 

ALWYX 

With  loveliness  more  deep  than  eyes  dis 
cover. 

STARK 
So,  'tis  a  bargain,  then? 

ALWYN 

Sit  by  me  here; 

And  if  your  musings  cause  no  fear, 
You  shall  behold  her  in  her  secret  dances. 
[47] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  11  Y 
STARK 

By  Hercules!     I'm  half  prepared  to  love 

her! 

[He  sits  on  the  log  beside  ALWYN.  OR- 
xis  still  stands  apart,  under  SHY'S  pro 
tection.  QUERCTJS  enters,  beckoning 
backward  into  the  wood.~\ 


[48] 


VIII 

TACITA.     ALWYN.     ORNIS.     STARK. 
(SHY.     QUERCUS.) 


ALWYN 

Now,  Tacita,  shy  pagan  nymph,  appear! 
[TACITA  enters  from  her  shrine  of  green 
ery,  and  pauses  before  them.] 
Spirit,  unblind  this  man!     Delusions  blur 
Inward  his  sight.     He  is  a  murderer, 
Yet  knows  not  he  is  such.     Unseal 
The  fountains  of  his  vision,  and  reveal 
Yonder  the  sister  spirit,  whom  so  long 
His  blind  heart  strove  to  wrong— 
Ornis :     Reveal,  and  let  him  speak  with  her ! 
[Soft  music  sounds,  various  and  elusive 
[49] 


SANCTUARY 

in  its  rhythmic  themes.  TACITA  ap 
proaches  STARK,  and  weaves  about  him 
a  dance  of  revelation,  lulling,  charming, 
luring  him  by  the  appeal  of  numberless 
wing -sway  ings  and  bird- darlings,  for 
which  the  music  suggests  the  song -notes. 
During  her  dance,  STARK  rises,  bewil 
dered,  and  is  gradually  lured  and  led  by 
her  toward  ORNIS,  before  whom — at  the 
consummation  of  the  dance — lie  stands, 
staring.^ 

STARK 

[Rising,  speaks  to  the  music. ] 

0  twilight — holy  dusk — dawn  twitterings! 
How  far,  how  dim  and  hollow 

You  darkle  over  me : 

Wings,  wings!  swift  wings,  shy  wings,  eter 
nal  wings! 

Where  shall  I  follow? 
Ah,  joy — jubilant  melody— 
And  morning !     Joy — I  follow ! 

1  dream,   and   drink   from   your   immortal 

springs ! 

[TACITA  disappears.     STARK  beholds 

ORXIS.] 

[50] 


IX 

STARK.     ORNIS.     (ALAYYN.     QUERCUS. 
SHY.) 


STARK 

HAT  are  you? 

ORNIS 

[Appealing  with  half-fearful 
affection.'] 

Brother ! — brother ! 

STARK 

[With  sudden  cry  and  ges 
tured] 

Ha,  my  net ! 

The  shy  bird  shall  be  captured  'live! 
[From  his  shoulder  he  looses  the  net,  and 
flings  it  over  ORNIS,  seizing  the  meshes.] 

Now,  Joy, 
I  hold  you  fast! 

ORNIS 

[Struggling.] 
Ee-6-lee-o! 
[51] 


SANCTUARY 
SHY 

[Extricating  li  er.  ] 

Xot  yet! 

ALWYN 

[Seizing  STARK.] 

Untamed,   and  still  unshamed!     Will  you 

destroy 
The  wings  that  raise  you?     Sister,  speak  to 

him! 

ORNIS 

My  brothers — all  of  you !     Oh,  wage  not  war 
Because  of  me.     I  fear  not.     Stark,  you  dim 
The  brightness  of  our  union,  greeting  so 
Your  sister. 

STARK 

[Dropping  Ms  net.'} 
Sister? 

ORNIS 

Hunt  no  more 
With  lime  and  net:     Your  love  shall  hold 

me  faster; 
For  I  am  Ornis. 

[52] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 
STARK 

[Fascinated.'] 
Ornis ! 

ORNIS 

Dear  my  master! 

Do  you  not  know  me?     I  am  she 

Whom  first,  beneath  the  dark,  ancestral  tree, 

You  rose  upon  your  feet  to  hearken  to. 

By  me  you  grew 

To  song  and  freedom.  Round  your  olden 
feasts 

You  watched  my  circling  flights,  whereby 
your  priests 

Proclaimed  their  omens  and  their  oracles; 

My  cranes  announced  your  victories,  my 
storks 

Fed  your  hearth-fires,  my  silver-throated 
gulls 

And  golden  hawks 

Saved  many  your  sea-towns  from  sore  pesti 
lence  ; 

And  my  sweet  night  bird  tuned  your  poets' 
shells 

To  lull  sad  lovers  in  languorous  asphodels; 
[53] 


SANCTUARY 

Yet  all  my  influence 

Shone  dimmer  than  my  beauty:  my  bright 

plumes 
Lured  you  to   squander  them,  till,   in  the 

fumes 

Of  greed,  your  heart  forgot  to  cherish  me, 
And  sold  me  unto  death  and  slavery.— 
Yet,  master,  as  you  will: 
Lo,  I  am  Ornis,  and  I  love  you  still! 

STARK 

[With  altered  tone  of  yearning^} 
Yet — yet  it  seems  I  never  heard  your  voice 
Till  now;  nor  ever  understood 
Till  now;  nor  paused,  as  now  in  this  still 

wood, 

To  tremble  and  rejoice 

At  greeting  you,  my  sister.     I  am  stunned, 
And  wait  to  comprehend  this  wonder. 

ORNIS 

Ah, 

You  never  prayed  before  to  Tacita ! 
Your  feet  have  shunned 
Her  gracious  paths,  yet  only  she 
Can  lead  and  show  my  brother  Man  to  me. 


Lo,  I  am  Ornis,  and  I  love  you  still!  " 


SANCTUARY 

STARK 

[Glancing  at  his  gun.~\ 

Why,  then, — why  have  I  brought  this  instru 
ment 

Of  murder  here?     What  black  intent 
Clouded  my  mind  with  blood? 

[Flinging  it  from  him.~\ 
Out  of  my  hands  !• — My  sister,  can  it  be 
That  still  you  soar  above  my  sanguine  flood 
Of   passion,    and   forgive?     Though   yet    I 

kill, 
Oh,  is  it  true  indeed — you  love  me  still? 

ORNI8 

Ha,  put  me  to  the  test! 

Show  me  the  field  that  breeds  your  harvest 

pest 

Of  chinch  or  weevil, 
Where  all  the  blossoms  wither  with  strange 

evil, 

Or  where,  in  filmy  tents, 
The  hairy  creepers  gorge  in  regiments 
Your  budding  apple  boughs; 
Show  your  ancestral  elms 
[55] 


SANCTUARY 

Gaunt  limbed  with  leprosy,  which  over 
whelms 

Their  green  old  age  in  death; 

Or  those  swift  locust  clouds,  whose  breath 

Blasts  the  ripe  loveliness  of  Spring; 

Show  these,  and  more 

Than  these,  and  cry  on  Ornis!  She  shall 
bring— 

From  hill  and  shore 

And  plain — her  winged  flocks  and  warbling 
broods, 

And  swinge  away  their  deadly  multitudes. — 

If  service  be  true  love,  I  love  you,  brother. 

ALWYN 

[Drawing  near.] 

And  for  her  sake,  so  we  will  love  each  other. 
[He  takes  STARR'S  right  hand.] 

SHY 

[Taking  his  left] 
A  greenwood  partnership! 

STARK 

[Pressing  their  hands.'} 
Thanks! 

[56] 


S  A  N  C  T  U  A  R  Y 
SHY 

[Whispering  to  the  faun] 
Quercus,  run! 

QUERCUS 

I  skip, 

I  gambol,  master.     Ha! 
I  have  a  tale  to  tell  to  Tacita! 
[He  leaps  away.] 

ORNIS 

[As  STARK  tears  off  his  headdress  of 

plumes] 
And  those — ? 

STARK 

For  these  my  heart  shall  build  a  fire 
Here  at  this  shrine: 

[He  hangs  the  headdress  on  a  tree] 

And  here,  as  on  a  pyre, 
I  place  them,  with  this  pouch,  which  hides 
The  victims  of  my  blind  desire. 
There,  at  sad  cost, 

I  let  them  tell  my  pain — the  votive  part 
Of  one  long  lost, 

[57] 


SANCTUARY 

Who   now   has    found   himself   in   nature's 

heart. — 

Ornis,  my  trail  divides: 
There  lie  the  ashes  of  the  thing  I  was. 
Henceforth,  I  walk  with  you— 

[Turning  to  ALWYN  and  SHY.] 

and  these. 

ALWYN 

A  compact,  then,  we  three :  that  when  we  go 
Forth  from  these  gracious  trees 
Into  the  world,  we  go  as  witnesses 
Before   the  men  who  make   our  country's 

laws, 

And  hy  our  witness  show 
In  burning  words 

The  meaning  of  these  sylvan  mysteries: 
Freedom  and  sanctuary  for  the  birds! 
Say,  is  our  compact  sworn? 

STARK 

I  swear. 

SHY 

And  I. 

[Enter  QUERCUS  and  TACITA.] 
[58] 


X 

TACITA.     QUERCUS.     STARK.     ORNIS. 
SHY.     ALWYN. 


STARK 

[To  ORNIS.] 

OOK,  sister:  friends  are  com 
ing. 

Now   lead   us   to  their   shrine 
close  by. 

ORNIS 

I   Oh,  first  let  all  make  joy  of 
..ml*;       this  our  union! 
For  now  my  glad  heart,  like  a  partridge 

drumming, 

Calls  for  my  mates  to  join  us,  all  together, 
In  frolicsome  communion. 
Ho,  Quercus,  Quercus,  call  them! — Tacita, 
Summon  them  with  your  fairy  feet! 

QUERCUS 
[Bounding  forward.] 

Hola! 
[59] 


SANCTUARY 
ALWYN 

[Taking  from  his  pouch  QUERCUS'  pipe.] 

Call  loud  and  long! 

Here's  our  old  pipe,  to  carry  a  new  song. 
[ALWYN  puts  the  pipe  to  his  lips,  while 
QUERCUS  sings  to  it,  calling  to  the  birds. 
At  the  end,  QUERCUS  begs  in  panto 
mime  for  the  pipe  which  ALWYN,  smil 
ing,  restores  to  him.~\ 
QUERCUS 

Come  here,  come  here,  you  little  comrades 
coy, 

From  hill  and  swamp  and  heather : 

Make  joy,  make  joy 

Together!— 

Tawny  beak  and  scarlet  vest, 

Slant  wing  and  sleek  feather, 

Bulging  bill  and  cocking  crest, 

Hither! 

Tumble  out  of  nest, 

Topple  out  of  windy  weather 

Here,  hola! 

With  preenings  quaint, 

Purple  dyes  and  crimson  paint, 

Here,  hola,  in  merry  state ! 
[60] 


SANCTUARY 

Up  from  dew-grass,  down  from  aerie, 

Tacita— Tacita 

Summons  you  to  dedicate 

Here  her  sanctuary! 

[While  QUERCUS  calls,  from  all  sides 
Birds  of  many  species  and  colors — like 
ORNIS  human  in  form — gather,  and  peer 
from  the  edges  of  the  scene.  To  these 
TACITA  now  beckons,  and  by  her  gesture 
summons  to  her  dance,  while  QUERCUS 
plays  joyously  on  his  pipe.~\ 

ORNIS 

Bird  and  faun  and  man  and  fairy, 

Gather  now  to  sanctuary! 

[TACITA  first  dances  alone,  then  with 
QUERCUS;  then,  inviting  and  leading 
them  all  in  pied  procession,  she  mar 
shals  all  away  into  her  woodland 
shrine. ] 

FINIS 


[61] 


AFTERWORD 


AFTERWORD 

In  the  original  production  of  this  masque, 
referred  to  in  the  Foreword,  the  sanctuary 
stage  was  devised  by  MR.  JOSEPH  LINDON 
SMITH  in  two  planes — the  natural  and  the 
supernatural,  harmoniously  blended. 

The  natural  plane,  in  the  foreground,  was 
a  leaf-strewn  plot  of  earth ;  the  supernatural, 
in  the  background,  was  a  constructed  stage 
some  eighteen  inches  higher,  sloping  slightly 
upward  toward  the  back,  covered  with 
smooth  canvas,  practical  for  dancing,  so 
painted  as  to  suggest  a  weathered  outcrop 
ping  of  rock,  overgrown  in  places  by  moss 
and  greensward. 

This  constructed  stage  was  divided  from 
the  foreground  earth  by  the  trunk  of  a  felled 
maple  tree,  straight  in  line  and  inconspicu 
ous  in  color. 

In  front  of  this  dividing  line,  SHY  and 

AIAVYN    remained    always    in    the    natural 

plane ;  behind  it,  ORXIS  and  TACITA  remained 

always  in  the  supernatural.     Their  scenes 

[65] 


SANCTUARY 

together  were  enacted  near  or  beside  the 
fallen  tree  trunk. 

In  the  scene  of  his  conversion,  STARK  was 
lured  into  the  higher  plane  by  TACITA  ;  while 
QUERCUS  alone  among  the  characters 
skipped  back  and  forth  from  one  plane  to 
the  other. 

As  audience,  the  non-participating  spec 
tators  sat  in  dominoes  of  brown,  flanked  on 
either  side  by  the  bird-participants  in  their 
pied  bird  costumes.  These  latter  watched 
the  performance  until,  at  the  finale,  they 
were  summoned  by  QUERCUS  upon  the  con 
structed  stage. 

There,  when  all  had  been  marshalled,  en 
tered  the  CARDINAL  BIRD  [enacted  by  MR. 
HERBERT  ADAMS,  the  sculptor],  accom 
panied  by  two  small  scarlet-tanager  aco 
lytes  [boys],  bearing  great  candles,  to  light  a 
crimson  cushion  held  by  the  Cardinal.  On 
the  cushion  lay  an  open  scroll. 

This  scroll,  itself  a  sheet  of  parchment- 
like  paper  from  the  original  press  of  Benja 
min  Franklin,  had  been  inscribed  by  MR. 
STEPHEN  PARRISH  with  a  Sonnet-Epilogue, 

[66] 


Cardinal  Bird  and  Hummingbird 


SANCTUARY 

composed  by  the  author  of  the  masque  and 
signed  by  all  of  its  participants,  with  their 
real  names  opposite  the  species  of  birds  they 
severally  impersonated. 

Moving  slowly  forward  to  music  till  he 
stood  before  PRESIDENT  and  MRS.  WILSO'X, 
where  they  sat  near  the  centre  of  the  first 
row  of  the  audience,  the  CARDINAL  BIRD, 
with  simple  dignity,  read  from  the  scroll  this 

EPILOGUE 

Addressed  to  MRS.  WOODROW  WILSON: 

Lady,  WHEREAS  your  gentle  patronage 
And  presence  have  to-night  so  favored  us 
In  this  our  ritual,  that  you  have  thus 
Lent  to  our  earnest  cause  a  double  gage: 
One  gracious  daughter  to  make  glad  our 

stage 

And  one  to  make  its  theme  harmonious 
With  song — whose  sire  now  makes  illustrious 
The  larger  theatre  of  our  living  age: 

THEREFORE,  ere  yet  the  privilege  be  spent 
Which  grants  our  thoughts  the  spell  of  hu 
man  words, 

[67] 


SANCTUARY 

We  vow  by  you,  here  in  this  tranquil  wood, 
Our  loyal  love  to  him — the  President, 
Whose  heart  has  heard  the  call  of  the  wild 

birds, 
And  sign  ourselves 

Your  Servants,  with  gratitude. 

Having  thus  presented  the  scroll,  the 
CARDINAL  BIRD  with  his  ACOLYTES  retired  to 
the  stage,  where  the  final  dance  and  proces 
sion  of  the  bird-participants  then  took  place. 

The  Programme  of  the  performance 
[omitting  that  part  of  the  Prelude  already 
printed  on  pages  xix  and  xx]  was  as  follows: 

UNDER  THE  PATRONAGE  OF 

MRS.  WOODROW  WILSON 
AND  THE  FOLLOWING  COMMITTEE 

MRS.   HERBERT  ADAMS  MAXFIELD  PARRISH 

MRS.   C.   C.   BEAMAN  CHARLES  A.   PLATT 

ERNEST  HAROLD  BAYNES  MRS.   GEORGE   RUBLEE 

KENYON  COX  LOUIS  EVAN  SHIPMAN 

PERCY  MACKAYE  JOSEPH  LINDON   SMITH 

MRS.  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

MEMBERS  OF   THE   MERIDEN   BIRD   CLUB   JOIN   WITH   RESI 
DENTS      OF      CORNISH,      NEW      HAMPSHIRE,      AND      THEIR 
FRIENDS,,    TO    PRESENT    A    MASQUE    IN    THE    INTEREST    OF 
AMERICAN    WILD    BIRD    PROTECTION 

[68] 


SANCTUARY 
PRELUDE 

SONG  "THE  HERMIT  THRUSH" 

SUNG  BY  MISS  MARGARET  WILSON 

THE     SONG     COMPOSED     BY     FREDERICK     S.     CONVERSE     TO 

WORDS   BY   ARVIA   MACKAYE,    WHO    ENACTS    THE    PART   OF 

THE    LITTLE     GIRL 

MERIDEN,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE: 
SEPTEMBER    12,   1913 

SANCTUARY 

A  BIRD  MASQUE 
BY  PERCY  MACKAYE 

PERFORMED    UNDER    THE   FOLLOWING 
DIRECTION 

STAGE  PRODUCTION  BY  JOSEPH  LINDON  SMITH 
DANCING   BY   JULIET    BARRETT    RUBLEE 
ORIGINAL  MUSIC   BY   FREDERICK   S.   CONVERSE 
PROPERTIES    BY    WILLIAM    HOWARD    HART 
PROGRAMME    DESIGN    BY    KENYON   COX 

PERSONS  IN  THE  MASQUE 

IN  THE  ORDER  OF  THEIR  APPEARANCE 

QUERCUS  FAUN  JOSEPH   LINDON   SMITH 

ALWYN  POET  PERCY  MACKAYE 

SHY  NATURALIST  ERNEST  HAROLD  BAYNES 

TACITA  DRYAD  JULIET  BARRETT   RUBLEE 

ORNIS  BIRD   SPIRIT  ELEANOR  WILSON 

STARK  PLUME   HUNTER  WITTER  BYNNER 

ATTENDANT  LEONARD    COX 

[69] 


SANCTUARY 


EPILOGUE 


THE  CARDINAL  BIRD 
FIRST  ACOLYTE 
SECOND  ACOLYTE 


HERBERT  ADAMS 
ROBIN  MACKAYE 
PAUL  SAINT-GAUDENS 


BIRD  PARTICIPANTS  IN  PANTOMIME 


BLUEBIRD 

CARDINAL  GROSBEAK 

OWL 

BALTIMORE    ORIOLE 

OWL 

RED-WINGED    BLACKBIRD 

GOLDFINCH 

DOWNY    WOODPECKER 

DOWNY    WOODPECKER 

DOWNY    WOODPECKER 

GOLDFINCH 

BLUE    JAY 

BLUE    JAY 

KINGBIRD 

CROW 

FLICKER 

SCARLET    TANAGER 

BLUEBIRD 

HOUSE    WREN 

RUBY-CROWNED    KINGLET 

OWL 

SCARLET    TANAGER 

GOLDFINCH 

RUBY-CROWNED    KINGLET 

WOOD    THRUSH 

EVENING    GROSBEAK 

HAWK 

KINGBIRD 

KINGBIRD 

BLUEBIRD 

YELLOW    WARBLER 

YELLOW    WARBLER 

BLUEBIRD 

SNOW    BUNTING 

SWALLOW 

HUMMINGBIRD 


MRS.  HERBERT  ADAMS 

MR.  HERBERT  ADAMS 

MISS  CHARLOTTE  ARNOLD 

MISS  FRANCES  ARNOLD 

MISS  GRACE  ARNOLD 

MR.  LEROY  BARNETT 

MISS  BIGELOW 

MRS.  ERNEST  HAROLD  BAYNE3 

MRS.  EDSON  BEMIS 

MR.  EDSON  BEMIS 

MR.  JOHN  FARNUM  CANN 

MISS  LOUISE  CONVERSE 

MISS  VIRGINIA  CONVERSE 

MRS.  KENYON  COX 

MR.  KENYON  COX 

MISS  CAROLINE  COX 

MR.  ALLYN  COX 

MISS  ANNIE   H.   DUNCAN 

MISS  ELIZABETH  EVARTS 

MR.   PRE SCOTT  EVARTS 

MR.   ELWIN  FEY 

MR.   CHARLES  FULLER 

MRS.   CONGER  GOODYEAR 

MISS  LENA  HARDY 

MISS   RUTH   HALL 

MR.  WILLIAM  HOWARD   HART 

MR.   GRISWOLD  HAYWOOD 

MISS  KING 

MISS   CLARA  KING 

MRS.   HERBERT  LAKIN 

MISS  ELEANOR  LAKIN 

MISS  HETTY  LAKIN 

MISS  BELLE   LAVERACK 

MRS.   PERCY  MACKAYE 

MISS  HAZEL  MACKAYE 

MISS  ARVIA  MACKAYE 


[70] 


SANCTUARY 

PARTICIPANTS  IN  PANTOMIME   [CONTINUED] 

SCARLET    TANAGER  MASTER     ROBIN     MACK  AYE 

GOLDFINCH  MISS  ALICE   McCLARY 

BLUEBIRD  MISS  ANNE   PARRISH 

CARDINAL  BIRD  MR.    STEPHEN  PARRISH 

RED-WINGED    BLACKBIRD  MISS    MARIE    PARKER 

HERMIT  THRUSH  MRS.  MAXWELL  PERKINS 

GOLDFINCH  MR.  ROGER  PLATT 

SCARLET    TANAGER  MR.    WILLIAM    PLATT 

RED-WINGED    BLACKBIRD  MISS    EDNA    RAPALLO 

GOLDFINCH  MISS  HADLEY  RICHARDSON 

BLUE  HERON  MR.   GEORGE   RUBLEE 

LOVE  BIRD  MRS.   LOUIS   SAINT-GAUDENS 

SCARLET    TANAGER  MR.    PAUL    SAINT-GAUDENS 

WOOD    THRUSH  MISS    SCUDDEB 

BLUEBIRD  MISS  ELLEN   SHIPMAN 

INDIGO  BUNTING  MASTER  EVAN   SHIPMAN 

WOODPECKER  MISS  FRANCES   SMITH 

WOODPECKER  MISS  REBECCA   SMITH 

BALTIMORE  ORIOLE  MISS  CORDELIA  TOWNSEND 

OFFICERS  OF  THE  MERIDEN  BIRD  CLUB 

PRESIDENT,  DR.  ERNEST  L.  HUSE 

VICE    PRESIDENTS 

MRS.  E.  E.  WHEELER  PROF.  FRANK  M.  HOWE 

MR.  NEIL  CRONIN  PROF.  CHESTER  H.   SEARS 

SECRETARY,  MR.  JOHN  FARNUM  CANN 

TREASURER,  MR.  ERNEST  HAROLD   BAYNES 

GENERAL    MANAGER,  MISS    MARY    L.    CHELLIS 

MASQUE  COMMITTEE  FOR  THE 
MERIDEN  BIRD  CLUB 

MR.   ROBERT  BARRETT  MISS  MARY  A.  FREEMAN 

MRS.  ERNEST  HAROLD   BAYNES  MR.   ALBION  E.  LANG 

MR.  JOHN  FARNUM  CANN         MR.   CHARLES  ALDEN  TRACY 
MISS  ANNIE   H.   DUNCAN  MRS.   E.   E.  WHEELER 

COSTUMES 

MRS.   HERBERT  ADAMS  MISS  ELLEN   SHIPMAN 

MR.  JOSEPH  LINDON   SMITH 

PHOTOGRAPHS,    DR.   ARNOLD    GENTHE 

BIRD-NOTES,  MISS  KATHERINE  MINAHAN 

INVITATIONS,  MISS  ANNIE  H.  DUNCAN 

AUTOMOBILES,  MR.  GRISWOLD  HAYWOOD 

STAGING    AND    SKATS 

MR.  WILLIAM  HOWARD  HART         MR.  JOHN  FARNUM  CANN 


[71] 


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